T  
HE camp increased rapidly, for although no extraordinarily rich finds were made, the valley bottom widened out at this point, and the gold was generally disseminated in quantities sufficient to enable the miners to live, and every one hoped that, as they got deeper, their claims would increase in value. Every day added to the number of tents and huts. Three bars competed with each other for the favour of the diggers, and two large stores drove a profitable trade in food and mining tools and materials; brawls at the gambling-tables were of nightly occurrence, and no small proportion of the gold obtained by the more fortunate diggers found its way into the pockets of the gamblers.
"I tell you what, Abe," Frank said, a short time after their arrival, when they heard that a young man had been shot down by one of the most notorious ruffians in the camp, "I think it would be a good plan if we were all to agree that we will not enter one of these saloons. I know it's a temptation, after work is over, to saunter in there; but I think such a party as we are are enough for each other. We have done well enough for months out[286] on the plains, and I don't see why we should not do so now. We are friends, and should be awfully sorry to see any one of our number losing his share of our joint earnings at the gambling-tables, or brought home with a bullet-hole in his head.
 
"If we want a little change, we can always ask one or two of the quiet men to join us round our fire. If we want drink, it is cheaper and better to buy it by the bottle, and have a glass in company here. There is no doubt that any one who takes to drink here may as well hang himself at once, for he will never do any good. I don't know that any of us are inclined that way, but I think it would be a good plan to enter into a sort of agreement with each other that, as long as we are in partnership, none of us shall enter a saloon or stake a dollar in play."
 
"I agrees with you, Frank. Time has been when I have gone in for as heavy sprees as any one. I don't think as I am likely to do it again, but I am sure that an agreement like that would be a good thing for me as well as the others. What do yer say, boys?"
 
"The only thing is," Peter suggested, "that we might, one or other, very well get into a bad quarrel by refusing to drink when we are asked. You see it's pretty nigh a deadly offence to refuse to drink with a man; and if it got noticed that none of us ever went into a bar, there are men here who would make a point of asking us to drink just for the sake of making a quarrel if we refused."
 
"I allow there's something in that," Abe said; "there's no surer way of getting into a mess among a set of men like this than in refusing to drink."[287]
 
"Well, if that's the case," Frank said, "we must modify the arrangement, and agree that none of us will go into a bar unless actually asked to go and take a drink—that wouldn't be very often, the invitation is generally given inside. We come back from work about the same time that every one else knocks off, and they are not thinking of going to the bars till they have had a meal, and when we are once quietly seated round the fire here no one is very likely to ask any of us to get up and go off to one of the saloons."
 
The suggestion was adopted, and all bound themselves not to enter a saloon to drink or gamble unless invited to take a drink under circumstances in which a refusal would be taken in bad part.
 
"I am mighty glad you proposed that," Abe said, afterwards. "Rube is all right, but Peter and Dick are both of 'em fond of going on a spree now and then, and this may keep them from it. I told 'em when we started that I was ready to go partners as long as they kept from drink, but I wasn't going to tie myself up with any one as was going in for that. When we dissolves partnership each one will have a right to do with his share what he likes; he can gamble it away, or drink it away, or fool it away as he chooses, but no man as drinks overnight will do his fair share of work next day. Besides, luck may at any time go agin us, and we may have to fall back on what we have laid by when times were good; and if any one had been and spent his share he couldn't be looking to the others to support him. Besides, as I pinted out, we might want all the money we has got atween us to buy up a claim in a good place. They agreed to it, and so far they have kept to it; not, of course,[288] as they had much chance to do otherwise on the way. Still, I think this fresh agreement's likely to do good. We are working here on shares, and each man is bound to do his best for the others."
 
After sitting by the fire for some time of an evening, Frank generally got up and strolled round the camp, accompanied by Turk. There were many phases of life presented to him. While the successful diggers were drinking and gambling in the saloons, there were many who could barely keep life together. It was true this was in most cases their own fault, for men willing to work could earn their five dollars a day by labouring in the claims of wealthier or more successful diggers; but many would hold on to their own claims, hoping against hope, and believing always that the ground would get richer as they went down.
 
Frank chatted freely with every one, and he and his great dog were soon known to every one in camp. He was able to do many little acts of kindness to those whose luck was bad; for on arriving at the end of the journey each of the party had, at Abe's suggestion, put twenty dollars into the common fund, and beyond this amount the sum he had brought with him from Omaha was still untouched; and many a man who would otherwise have gone to bed supperless after a hard day's work, was indebted to him for the means of procuring a few pounds of flour and a pound or two of pork.
 
His attention had been particularly attracted to two men who lived in a small tent a hundred yards away from any of the others, and who worked a claim by themselves. They did not seem to have any communication with the rest of the diggers, and kept themselves entirely apart.[289] While at work Frank had heard several jeering remarks as to the absurdity of working a claim in a part of the ground which had over and over again been tried and abandoned, and Frank felt sure that the men were doing badly.
 
One day he observed that only one of the men was at work, the younger of the two; and as he continued to wield his shovel after the others had thrown down their tools for the evening, Frank walked over to him.
 
"Is your partner ill?" he asked. "I see he is not working with you to-day."
 
The man nodded, but continued his work without speaking. He was evidently indisposed for conversation.
 
"Why I asked," Frank said, "was not for mere curiosity, but because we have brought up with us from Sacramento a few bottles of fever medicine, and other things likely to be wanted here, and if any of them would be of use you will be heartily welcome to them. We ought all to help each other, for no one knows whether he himself may not want a helping hand next."
 
"Thank you," the man said, somewhat gruffly; "we shall get on all right, and my mate isn't fond of strangers."
 
"I need not trouble him myself," Frank said; "I can bring you round any medicines here, and you can give them to him without saying how you got them."
 
"Thank you; medicine wouldn't do him any good," the man said, and resumed his work as if anxious to avoid further conversation.
 
Frank, however, was not to be discouraged. The man looked thin and haggard, and Frank suspected that it might be food rather than medicine of which the man's mate was in need. He therefore stood his ground.[290]
 
"I am afraid you haven't hit on a very good spot," he said. "I don't know much about it myself, for I have only been here about a month; but I hear every one say that there have been several trials made here, and that none of them have found anything to speak of."
 
"We must work where we can," the man said. "The places were pretty well all taken up when we came, and it didn't suit us to go further."
 
"Well," said Frank, "I don't want to be inquisitive, mate, or to interfere in other people's affairs, but I noticed your mate looked an elderly man, and that you seemed pretty much alone. I am only just out here myself, and I and the party I am working with are doing fairly; so I thought it would be only neighbourly to come over and see if I could be of use in any way."
 
"No, thank you," the man repeated; "there's nothing we want."
 
Frank saw that at present he could do nothing; but he had little doubt that the two men were really suffering severely. Still he understood and respected their pride, and with a friendly "Good evening," strolled off to his own hut.
 
The next evening he again went round to the solitary workman.
 
"How is your mate?" he asked.
 
The man shook his head. "He's pretty bad."
 
The tone was softer and less repellent than that which he had used the evening before. He was a young man of not more than three or four and twenty, and Frank saw that his lip quivered as he turned away from him and dug his shovel into the ground.
 
"If your mate is worse," Frank said, "you have no[291] right to refuse my offer. I cannot help feeling that you are doing badly; in that case, why should you not let me lend you a hand? There's no disgrace in being unlucky. Here men are unlucky one week, and make a rich strike on the week following, and then they can lend a hand to others, just as a hand may have been lent to them when they wanted it. I think by your accent that you are an Englishman, and an educated one, just as I am myself. Why on earth don't you let me be a friend to you?"
 
The man did not reply; but Frank could guess by the random way in which he was doing his work, that a struggle was going on.
 
"He would not hear of it," he said at last.
 
"Then don't let him hear of it," Frank said promptly. "If he has any mistaken ideas about taking help from a stranger, the sort of ideas one would naturally have at home, and is ill and wants something, we must help him in spite of himself. If, as I suspect, he needs other matters as well as medicine, you should provide him, even if it be necessary to carry out a little harmless deception."
 
"I would not tell him a lie," the man said, almost fiercely.
 
"No, there's no occasion for that," Frank went on. "You can tell him that you have come across that nugget in the claim," and Frank tossed into the hole a nugget for which he had half an hour before given a digger ten dollars from his own store.
 
For a moment the man stood irresolute, and then burst into a passion of tears. Frank saw that he had gained the day, and saying, "I will come round for a chat to-morrow afternoon. That's my camp up there—that tent just on the ridge. I have really medicines, if you think[292] they will be of any use," strolled away to his supper. He glanced round when he had gone a little distance, and saw the digger running at full speed towards the solitary tent.
 
The next evening the young man dropped his shovel as he approached him, and came to meet him.
 
"I did not thank you last night," he began.
 
"Nonsense," Frank said, interrupting; "there is no occasion whatever for thanks. Why, it's the custom here, whenever any one is taken ill, or is unfortunate, and has to move on, a few friends, or, as it often happens, a few strangers, will each chip in a pinch of gold dust to help him on. It's the rule here that we stand by each other, and being both Englishmen, it is natural we should lend each other a hand. How is your mate?"
 
"He is a good deal better, thanks to the food I was able to get for him; for, as you guessed, we have been nearly starving the last fortnight."
 
"But why did you keep on working at such a place as this?" Frank asked. "Why didn't you go on wages? There are plenty of men here who would be glad to take on an extra hand if they could get him."
 
The young man hesitated.
 
"I know it must seem utter folly," he said at last, "but the fact is my partner has a fixed idea that claim will turn out well; he dreamt it."
 
"Pooh!" Frank said; "diggers are constantly dreaming about lucky places—and no wonder, when they are always thinking about them. I consider it madness to keep on toiling here, even if your mate is ill. It is folly to give in to him in this way, and for you both to be half-starved when you can earn, at any rate, enough to keep you both by working for others."[293]
 
"That is just what I knew you would say," the young man replied, "and I feel it myself, thoroughly."
 
"Then why on earth do you keep on doing it?"
 
"I have a reason, a very particular reason, though I am not at liberty to explain it."
 
"Well, then, there's no more to be said," Frank replied, vexed at what he regarded as obstinate folly. He talked for a few minutes, and then strolled away, and for the next two days did not go near the digger who seemed so bent on slaving uselessly.
 
The third day Frank noticed that the man was not at work on his claim. As soon as he knocked off in the evening he walked across to the spot. The tools still lay in the hole, showing that the claim had not been abandoned, although work had temporarily ceased.
 
Next day the claim was still unworked; the tent stood in its place, showing that the diggers had not moved away. Although, from their previous conversation, Frank thought that he might not improbably meet with a repulse, after work was done he strolled over to the tent.
 
"Are you in, mate?" he asked, outside. "Seeing you were not at work for the last two days, I thought I would walk over and ask you if anything was the matter."
 
The young man came out from the tent; he looked utterly worn-out.
 
"My father has been too ill for me to leave him," he said, in a low tone. "I spoke of him as my mate before, but he is my father."
 
"Can I do anything?" Frank asked.
 
"No, thank you; I don't think any one can do anything. If there were a doctor in camp, of course I should call him in; but I don't think it would be of any use. He's broken[294] down, altogether broken down. We don't want for anything, thanks to your kindness."
 
"You look worn-out yourself," Frank said.
 
"I suppose I do. I have not lain down for the past five days."
 
"Then," Frank said, "I insist on taking your place to-night. Is he sensible?"
 
The young man shook his head.
 
"Sometimes, for a little while, I think he knows where he is, but most of the time he lies perfectly still, or just talks to himself.
 
"Very well, then," Frank said, "he will not know the difference. Besides, you can lie down in the tent, and I can wake you at once if there is any occasion."
 
The man hesitated; but he was too worn-out to resist, and he made no opposition as Frank entered the tent. An elderly man lay stretched upon some blankets, one of which was thrown loosely over him. Frank stooped and put his fingers on his wrist. He could scarcely feel the pulse.
 
"What have you been giving him?"
 
"I got a piece of fresh meat and boiled it down into broth."
 
"Have you given him any stimulants? I think he wants keeping up."
 
"He never touches them," the young man said.
 
"All the better," Frank replied; "they will have all the more effect upon him as medicine. If you will wait here a few minutes, I will go up to my tent and fetch down a blanket and a few things. I will be with you in ten minutes."
 
Frank briefly announced to his comrades that he was[295] going to sit up for the night with a sick man. He put a bottle containing a glass or two of brandy in his pocket, and went into a store and purchased some lemons and a piece of fresh beef; this he took back to the camp fire, and asked Abe to put it on and let it simmer all night in the ashes, in just enough water to cover it, and then to strain it in the morning, and bring the broth across to what was known in the camp as the "lonely tent." He took a small phial of laudanum and quinine from the store of medicines, to use if they might appear likely to be needed, and then went back to the tent.
 
"Now," he said to the young man, "you lie down at once. If you are wanted I will be sure and wake you. I shall make myself comfortable, never fear; one of my mates will bring me down a pannikin of tea the last thing."
 
He squeezed one of the lemons into a tin drin............